


The Storyeater

by clockwork_spider



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, cannibalistic siren, siren au, vaguely morbid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockwork_spider/pseuds/clockwork_spider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A siren named himself Kikyo. A siren devours flesh, along with the flesh's stories. A siren meets a storyteller. </p><p>(In which Kikyo is a cannibalistic siren that consumes a person's knowledge & thoughts when he consumes their flesh, and Byakuran is a storyteller.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth by Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayuki-master](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ayuki-master).



> Written for the lovely Ayuki-Master for KHR Collab Exchange. Check out her [Siren!AU art](http://ayuki-master.tumblr.com/tagged/siren%21kikyo). Amazing, eh?

“I exist.”

The… not-man, creature? Sentience… The sentience had came across this revelation not too long ago. A few weeks, perhaps. 

The question that immediately followed was “What am I?” 

It… he. He did not remember how he came to exist. He did not remember parents, or childhood, simply a desire to _consume_. 

* * *

 

He lured them in with his voice, he knew how to do that then. He must have also known to drag them into the water, to hold onto them tightly in an intimate embrace until they stop moving. 

He must have also known, somehow, the way to crack their skulls open, that he was to consume their flesh, as well as their sentience. 

Death was the first concept he understood. 

Death by drowning. 

Fear. 

But he could not drown. Only the consumed drowned. And thus he must be different from them, the men. _Siren,_ they called him, before they drown. He was dangerous.  _They_ feared him.

* * *

 

The first man he consumed had a wife, and a daughter, both of whom he loved greatly. He have to return to them, the man had thought, as life drained out of him.

The man’s wife was someone with stars in her eyes and a smile the lit up the room. He loved her, and she loved him back. As the water entered his lungs, he wanted to see her one last time. 

The Siren learnt all this as he consumed the man. He learnt about the man’s first time on a ship, how he met his wife on a quiet evening, the radiance of her smile with flowers in her hair, his vow of “’til death do us part”, his first time holding his infant daughter, she was so small, his promise of “I’ll be back in a week”. 

And as the siren consumed the man’s body, he became the man. And for but a brief moment, the siren was a complete being. 

It was exhilarating. 

He needed more. 

* * *

 

Some men came in ships, some came in boats. Most were sailors or fishermen. The men travelled out to sea, but they longed for land, for their families. 

Thus, the Siren too longed for land. 

He would allow himself to be captured, the Siren decided. He’d swim towards a fishing net, and cling on as they pull him up to their boat, and then he would sing for them to take him to shore. If he could make men dive into the water through his singing, perhaps he could also use it to command them to steer the boat. 

It did not occur to the Siren that this was a dangerous plan, for the Siren did not know fear. 

And so, the Siren approached the fishing boat. 

And so, the Siren was pulled up with the net.

And so, the Siren sung, and the men were enthralled by his voice. 

But sung as he did, the Siren could not make the men steer with his voice. So enthralled were they by his song, that they lost themselves along with control of the boat. The boat crashed upon a reef. 

And so, the Siren tried again with the next passing boat. 

Once again, the Siren approached the boat. 

Once again, the Siren was pulled up by the net. 

But this time, the Siren did not sing. He allowed the men to gasp in fear and wonder as they whispered “siren” amongst themselves. 

“A deal,” he offered, in the voice of men, “take me to shore, and I shall repay you with my flesh. Refuse me, and you shall pay me with yours.”

The men were afraid, yet they wanted the flesh of the Siren, which they believed would grant them immortality. 

So the men took the Siren to shore, bound by ropes. The siren honoured his promise, and let the men divide him as they sees fit. And when they were done, they left the rest of him by the shore. 

* * *

 

Later, and much later, he consumed a man so he could learn how to walk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is an AU of a minor character... This is basically going into OC territory. I'm taking 100% creative liberty with Siren!Kikyo here. 
> 
> The siren setting here is based on a mix of western and eastern myths and stuff I pulled out of my ass. In Japanese mythology, eating mermaid flesh makes you immortal! Isn't that neat?
> 
> Think vaguely 18th century... uh... AU? I actually have no particular culture in mind while writing this, so, uh... combination of all sorts of culture I guess.


	2. Named after a Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this fic with folk music playing on the background. It will make it better, I swear. All the run-on sentences will make sense. Let the folk consume you.

The people on land were different. They knew nothing of the sea, but there were ones that knew each of the stars, and there are ones that knew the earth and the wonders that could grow from it. There were tailors, tinkerers, engineers, scholars. prostitutes, merchants, beggars, people of all sorts that do all sorts of things to live. 

Like the young man before him, for example, who made a living by telling stories at the town square. 

He’s a pleasant sort, with face like a cherub and hair that shone white gold. His voice rang clear like bell as he spoke of tales more fantastic than anything the Siren had ever consumed. Tales of space, of time, of an infinity of universes, of a foreign crime syndicate and its unfortunate heir, of heaven, and hell, and of the end times. 

“And the devil?” The Siren found himself asking. “did he succeed in changing the world?”

“I’ve not yet decided, my fine Sir,” said the storyteller, with delicate crinkles besides his eyes as he smiled, "but if you’re to visit again tomorrow, I will continue the story for ya. What do you say?”

“That sounds splendid,” the Siren answered, and decided that perhaps he could wait a day or two, get to know the fine delight before he taste it. The siren enjoyed conversing with the people he plans to consume. It was fascinating, to guess at how someone would taste, to learn and speculate on interesting people before absorbing them. The mystery of the guessing game made the solution taste better. 

“What’s your name, storyteller?” asked the Siren. 

“It’s Byakuran,” the youth shone him a dazzling smile, a row of straight white teeth, “and you, Mister?”

“It’s Kikyo,” the Siren answered, Kikyo was the name of a songstress the Siren consumed. She was known to enthral men with her song and beauty, with the gentle sways of her hips and the redness of her lips. It was a beautiful name, one he felt was worthy of matching Byakuran's. 

“Byakuran,” Kikyo smiled back at the youth, extending a hand, “would you like to go for a walk with me.”

Sweetly, the youth took the extended hand and hopped off the pedestal with the grace of an angel. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

* * *

 

And so they spoke, of space and of the stars, of the depth of the ocean and the land across the sea, of the nature of men, of facts and fiction, and sometimes a mix of both. In every turn, Kikyo would prompt Byakuran for his thoughts, and such marvellous thoughts they were. And at each turn, Byakuran would demand Kikyo for answers of his own. This was new to the Siren, for the Siren consumed thoughts, yet was not used to producing them. 

Kikyo realized that he did not mind the task, thinking, to keep up with Byakuran. 

And so they spoke, again, and again. And when Kikyo’s knowledge failed him, he would devour another, someone sharp and bright, so that he could keep up with Byakuran. So that he could tell new things to the brilliant youth, and see how the youth respond. 

“Can I tell you something strange, Kikyo?” He confessed with a secretive smile, and lowered his voice so that the world was only theirs, “the stories I tell you, they come to me. I’m not the one making them up.” 

“Come to you?” 

“Ay, they come to me in dreams and visions."

“You take inspirations from the unconscious mind,” the Siren nodded in understanding. 

The teen but shook his head with a patient smile. 

“I believe, Kikyo, that there are millions of world out there, beyond what we know, beyond what we can reach, and I am but a messenger.” 

“And these visions of yours, they’re from those worlds.”

Byakuran nodded. 

Kikyo supposed this would be a moment for men to declare Byakuran mad, but Kikyo was no man, nor did he see a difference between madness and sanity. Kikyo understood what it was like, to experience different worlds through the eyes of many. He himself had seen the world through many lenses. Perhaps the storyteller, who had millions of characters within his head, saw a million worlds. 

Or perhaps there were actual physical worlds out there, ones that were different from their own, ones with mechanical time-machines and crime syndicates that ruled the lands. How fantastic that would be. 

“Have you ever been to?” He asked.

“But brief moments,” Byakuran laughed, soft, airy, “with the aid of opium. You were there.” 

“I was in your world?” 

“Ay, you were the emperor who stood atop the spires of wealth.”

“Could you take me there?” The Siren asked, curious. 

The storyteller laughed, and told his story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BYAKURAN SHOWS UP!


End file.
